


open the light that dwells in your heart

by altarlife



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Coffee Shops, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Kaoru POV, M/M, are they married idk you tell me, god is a cat in a coffee shop, isolated island that might be a liminal space as well, they're in LOVE your honour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 18:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altarlife/pseuds/altarlife
Summary: On an island off the coast of Japan sits a coffee shop run by a snippy rosy-haired barista, a charming green-haired baker, and a possibly immortal calico cat.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81





	open the light that dwells in your heart

**Author's Note:**

> thank you cj for fuelling my matchablossom brainrot and giving me the inspo behind this <3 as usual, here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CX6c8gsRXIgvvf8OLzDOF?si=Ff4tTEdKRramcE5LjkHaaA) for the story!

It’s his body’s reaction to an impending death by suffocation that startles him awake, chest heaving when he sits up, traces of fur stuck to his face and tongue. After a good moment of sputtering and wiping the fur away from his eyes, Kaoru’s gaze lands on the calico perpetrator now perched on his shins, tail slowly swishing from side to side as she stares him down with her mismatched eyes, unblinking, alert, smug. His gaze sharpens into a glare; he swears it was the right eye that’s gold, not the left.

The staredown lasts for two minutes tops until Kaoru’s patience runs dry, abruptly shifting his leg underneath the covers so that Nyako hops onto the floor, landing without so much as a single thud. He waits until she’s out of the room before turning towards Kojiro, who is somehow still asleep despite Kaoru’s earlier gasps for air. So he frowns bitterly and pettily shoves the arm thrown over his middle, abruptly drawing Kojiro away from his slumber.

“What the hell, Kaoru…” he mumbles, words slurred from sleep.

“I told you to shut the door before going to bed.”

Kojiro turns over, face down on his pillow and Kaoru can just barely make out the muffled “I did”. He doesn’t back down.

“Then why did I wake up to that _demon_ trying to suffocate me to death?” he says, leaving Kojiro alone on the bed as he slips on a robe, tying it around his waist before heading towards the balcony.

Behind him, Kojiro says, “I told you she’s not normal. And she’s not a demon, she’s a—”

Kaoru scoffs.

“That cat is _not_ a god, Kojiro.”

Given her behaviour, a demon would be more likely anyway. 

Kojiro mumbles something unintelligible and even then, Kaoru can tell he’s still insistent on Nyako being some type of omnipotent being. 

The morning birdsong fills the room when he opens the doors to the balcony, sunrays coating everything they touch in a honey glow. He steps out, leaning against the iron railing, pink hair and grey robe fluttering in the soft, salty breeze. Beyond the brief expanse of green, off the cliff’s edge, is the never-ending cerulean sea. The tide gently rolls in, barely audible amongst the cacophony of an island stirring awake. 

It’s a sight he’ll never get used to.

He remains standing there, silently staring across the horizon, watching the seabirds hover and dip into the sea, until he hears Kojiro sit up and make his way over to him. The corners of Kaoru’s lips quirk into a small smile when Kojiro leans down to rest his chin on Kaoru’s shoulder, green curls tickling his cheek, morning stubble prickly against his neck.

“Nice view,” Kojiro mutters with a smile in his tone, snaking his arms around Kaoru’s waist.

“Your breath reeks,” Kaoru replies, leaning into the touch.

“Hm, good morning to you too.”

Kaoru lets them soak in the morning sun for a moment longer before saying, “You’ve got to open the shop soon.”

“How can you tell?” Kojiro asks without missing a beat, as if Kaoru hasn’t been answering the same question every morning for the past eight years.

“The sea told me.”

Yesterday, it had been a long-tailed jaeger that flew past him. The day before, it had been the potted pink cosmos on the left corner of the balcony. Sometimes, Kaoru switches it up, a little white lie so the novelty doesn’t wear off. Instead of the mariposa butterfly, it’s a broken piece of tile they have yet to throw away. Kojiro can often pick those out anyway, because somehow a balled up piece of paper doesn’t work as well as a pot of flowers that make Kaoru’s nose itch. Those are too mundane, apparently.

Kojiro laughs against the crook of his shoulder.

“And here I am thinking Nyako is the god around here.”

Kaoru snorts, lightly shrugging him off, “Go on then. The croissants aren’t gonna bake themselves.”

Reluctantly, Kojiro listens, arms falling back to his sides. 

“Why can’t you open shop with me?”

Kaoru turns around, the railing pressed against his back as he stares pointedly at Kojiro.

“I have other things to work on,” he says. “Setting up the coffee station only takes a short while.”

“Maybe you’ll want to consider working on your attitude then,” Kojiro grins teasingly, slowly walking backwards into the room when Kaoru shoos him away. “Our Tablelog ratings would be shit thanks to your customer service.”

“Well it’s a good thing we don’t have that here then, isn’t it?”

“All I’m saying is that if you’d just smile at the customers like how you normally do, you’d probably stop scaring them off,” Kojiro says before he nearly trips over a pair of rumpled trousers on the floor. 

_Like how you normally do_ , as in his smiles reserved for Kojiro. Others aren’t as deserving, of course. He thought that much has always been obvious.

Besides, customer service has never been his forte.

A chuckle slips past Kaoru’s lips at the sight of Kojiro kicking the trousers aside, then his brows furrow, “I _do not_ scare them off.”

Lingering by the bed, Kojiro clicks his tongue, “There’s only so much damage control I can do, Kaoru.”

Damage control as in sweet-talking the visitors while Kaoru continues to do his actual job. Make coffee, indulge the visitors, but not entertain them. There’s a difference. One that Kojiro tends to conflate.

“Just go take a shower already,” Kaoru narrows his eyes at him, but they hold no malice. “It won’t be long till the first bunch arrive.”

“Did the sea tell you that?”

“ _Kojiro._ ”

  
  


—

  
  


The first thing he notices upon entering the shop is that the door hinges are in dire need of some oil, the squeak of worn metal joints interrupting the chime of the bell hanging above. The scent of brown butter and caramelised sugar wafting through the entire shop is the second thing he notices, especially prominent when he steps behind the counter, the door to the small kitchen left slightly ajar to let both the sweet scent and Kojiro’s singing out into the open. Kaoru would never admit out loud that he prefers the latter over the former.

A sack of coffee beans is already behind the counter, slumped below where the espresso coffee machine sits. Kojiro must’ve carried it in when he opened the shop an hour ago. Kaoru frowns. They aren’t due another delivery until the next week, so just how many visitors will they be receiving until then?

His lips remain tugged in that faint frown as he sets up his station, refilling the coffee beans, checking the expiry dates of the milk cartons in the fridge, dusting away any stray coffee grounds that he missed yesterday. Every now and then, he spares glances at the door, at the windows, keeping an eye out for any foreign silhouettes outside. No one yet. He takes the chance to make their morning coffee, leaving his space to wipe down the tables for their incoming visitors as the espresso machine does the work for him.

There are only six tables in their coffee shop. With a maximum of seventeen seats, Kaoru’s never seen it fully occupied. The closest they got was eleven in a day. That had been two years ago. In any other case, that would annihilate a business, but their coffee shop isn’t necessarily one to conform to typical expectations. He likes it that way. Keeps it somewhat personal almost, while absolving him of the burdens and stress from monetary pressures.

Sometimes, he will ask rather obnoxious visitors to pay up though.

He quickly froths up some milk when he’s done clearing the tables, steadily pouring most of the milk into one of the ceramic cups, leaving the small remainder for the other. 

As he approaches the kitchen, Kojiro moves on to singing Lovefool.

Kaoru’s frown melts into an amused smile.

He lightly kicks the door open, careful not to spill the coffee as he does so. Kojiro doesn’t stop singing at his arrival, only now, he’s serenading Kaoru, who can’t help the blush that spreads across his cheeks.

“ _Love me, love me. Say that you love me_.” 

He’s painfully off-key.

Kaoru is endeared all the same.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asks instead, setting the cups down on the wooden table coated in flour. While he stirs in some soft brown sugar into his coffee, Kojiro continues to serenade him as the song comes to an end, leaving Kaoru’s question unanswered and a mound of dough neglected on the centre of the table. 

A tray of muffins sits on the cart by the door, along with a platter of scones—Kaoru hopes those aren’t raisins he sees. Something else is in the oven, a cake from the looks of it, shrouded in a deep amber light. Kojiro always ends up baking far too much. It’s reached the point where Kaoru finds himself giving away most of whatever ends up in the display case because their collective sweet tooth still wouldn’t be able to finish the leftovers.

“No fancy art today?” Kojiro drinks his milky coffee right after asking. “Not even a heart, ouch.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Kaoru replies, humming in satisfaction once he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re so stingy.”

Kaoru raises a brow at him, “Learn how to make latte art yourself then.”

Something brushes against his ankle and his heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. Instinctively, he jumps, thankful he’d set the cup down before Nyako nearly kills him the second time today. Kojiro’s laugh bounces off the various pots and pans around the kitchen.

Kaoru glares at Nyako as she curls around Kojiro’s ankles.

“Jealous, Kaoru?” Kojiro teases.

Now Kaoru glares at him, though it’s noticeably dulled down. 

“What the fuck—no. I was just thinking about how unsanitary it is to have a cat in the kitchen,” he says. “You know, where you bake and cook for the visitors.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kojiro says, scooping the calico cat into his arms, causing Kaoru to visibly grimace. 

He makes a mental note not to eat any of the baked treats today.

“You’re disgusting.”

“That’s not—”

The chime of the bell outside cuts Kojiro off, followed by the faint sound of footsteps on the wooden floor. Muffled, curious voices trickle into the kitchen, questions of _where the hell are we_ and _what is this place_ slipping underneath the door. Kaoru sends one last withering look at Kojiro and Nyako before wheeling the cart outside, uttering a monotonous welcome to the pair of visitors as he places the muffins and scones in the display case. 

To hell with Kojiro’s customer service advice.

“Is this really the only building on the island?” the taller visitor asks. The shorter one is busy looking at the display case and Kaoru bites back a warning.

His tone is flat when he asks, “Did you see any others?”

It’s a rhetorical question, one that isn’t actually meant to garner an answer but they recollect their trip anyway, idly talking about the boat ride to get to the island, the steep path to get to the coffee shop, and how there actually hadn’t been any other buildings they could spot. Kaoru unwillingly listens with a deadpan expression, quirking a brow at them when their little anecdote comes to an end.

Listening to the same story over and over again is exhausting, to say the least. Perhaps it’s the only downfall of running the coffee shop. Nothing really surprises Kaoru anymore.

“Alright, so do you want a coffee or something?” 

He doesn’t bother to hide the impatience in his tone, briefly inspecting his nails as he waits for an answer.

The taller one’s eyes widen for a split second, while the shorter one looks away from the case.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate and a banana muffin, please,” the shorter visitor says with a grin.

Kaoru’s eye twitches before he looks at the taller one. 

“Um, could I get a cappuccino?”

“Will you be having those to go or?” Kaoru asks, finger tapping against the counter. 

The visitors share a look, then, “We’ll have them here.”

“I’ll bring your drinks and food over then,” he says and catches sight of another silhouette outside, slowly coming into focus as they approach the entrance. An abnormality. It isn’t often that visitors will come one after the other in close successions. He holds back a sigh, turning his back towards the current ones as he grinds some beans.

It’s going to be a long day.

  
  


—

  
  


That morning, dawn takes on a soft pinkish hue, the birdsong is more subdued, and the overgrown aloe vera plant on the right side of the balcony tells him that they can have a day to themselves. Kaoru slides back under the covers right after, curling back into the space he briefly left behind, chasing after the warmth Kojiro radiates.

When he rouses awake for the second time that morning, the pink streaks in the sky have disappeared and Kojiro is still sound asleep, softly snoring against the back of Kaoru’s neck. After putting on his glasses, Kaoru carefully turns around so as not to wake him just yet, shifting up slightly to prop his elbow on the pillow, resting his head on his hand, sleep-laden gaze landing on Kojiro’s face.

While Kaoru is beginning to show some signs of their time spent on the island, crows feet beginning to appear around the outer corners of his eyes, Kojiro more or less retains the boyish softness to his features despite the years passing by faster than the changing of the seasons. Rather than luck, Kaoru chalks it up to the fact that he’s typically the one dealing with the visitors despite not enjoying it, whereas Kojiro is the opposite, usually situated behind the scenes but far too pleased to step in and charm the island’s visitors when Kaoru’s patience thins.

No, he isn’t jealous.

Just as nothing surprises him anymore, nothing really threatens him either.

The woven bracelets around their wrists bring a sense of security with them after all.

Kojiro stirs in his sleep, the mumbling that slips past his lips incoherent and barely audible. Kaoru reaches out to smooth the crease forming between his brows and brown eyes slowly blink up at him.

“No work today?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Nope,” Kaoru moves on to slowly combing through his hair and waits for the inevitable question to follow with Kojiro’s faint smile.

“How’d you know?”

“The aloe plant that you keep saying you’ll repot,” he rolls his eyes, lightly tugging on a lock of hair to punctuate the end of the sentence. “It’s gonna break the current pot if you don’t do it soon.”

Kojiro hums, “Remind me the next time we go to the mainland then.”

“Luce is your responsibility, not mine,” Kaoru narrows his eyes, removing his hand from Kojiro’s green waves so he can sit up.

A shit-eating grin spreads across his lips, “So you _do_ know her name.”

“Only because you never shut up about your plants,” Kaoru huffs.

At that, Kojiro sits up, wrapping his arms around Kaoru’s middle after stretching them above his head with a grunt.

“Let’s go check out the field today,” he murmurs, lightly going over the blossomed marks left on Kaoru’s neck from last night with feather-light kisses. “It’ll be pretty, now that spring’s here.”

Kaoru scrunches up his nose, despite the warmth rising to his face.

“I think I’d rather die.”

“Just take your _pills_.”

He cranes his neck to glance at Kojiro with an irked look in his eyes. “Why must you make it sound so scandalous? They’re antihistamines.”

Kojiro seizes the opportunity to press a chaste kiss on Kaoru’s lips, sounding far too smug when he says, “I’m taking that as a yes then.”

Kaoru doesn’t object, not when they end up staying in bed for another hour, not when Kojiro insists on bringing coffee along, making him sort out his station for two cups of coffee while Kojiro whips up some sandwiches in the kitchen.

At one point, as they’re walking towards the far east of the island, Nyako joins them, appearing out of nowhere among the tall grass, before surpassing them entirely to run after the starlings. Kojiro makes a point about how she definitely isn’t a normal cat and Kaoru interrupts him with a sneeze.

With the wildflowers in full bloom, spring brings out the best of the island, but the worst of his allergies. In hindsight, he should’ve taken that into consideration when they moved here.

But that itself had been out of their control.

He likes to think that it’s worth it though, for spring brings out the best in his paintings. By the time summer approaches, he’d have gone through at least two sketchbooks. That and the way Kojiro’s smile is always brighter surrounded by the plethora of colours among the lush grass, even if it’s at the expense of triggering Kaoru’s allergy.

It’s an uphill walk, closer towards the cliffs and caves, further away from the beach by the coffee shop. The edges of his pale blue yukata softly float in the wind and Kaoru forgets about his allergies for a moment when they finally reach the outskirts of the small field, committing the sight of anemone, trilliums, saxifrage, and buttercups to memory—it’s been a while since they’ve had this variety.

Kojiro sets their blanket down a good distance away from the field for Kaoru’s sake, even if the air is so ridden with pollen that the breeze would carry it over regardless. The antihistamines work for the most part, save for a sudden sneeze every now and then as he lays out his paints and brushes on the blanket.

He hands Kojiro his latte as he drinks from his own cup.

“Don’t fall off the cliff now,” Kaoru warns around the rim of his cup as Kojiro picks up the now-emptied basket with his free hand. 

Should the shop open tomorrow, there’ll be an addition of edible flowers on the baked goods and perhaps some floral tea on the menu board above the espresso machines if this year’s selection allows for it. 

Last year, the field had been a sea of lavender and to this day, there’s still a good amount of dried lavender stored in jars on the shelves of Kojiro’s kitchen. 

“I’d never,” Kojiro says. “You’d miss me too much if I did.”

Rolling his eyes, Kaoru waves him off, watching the wildflowers curl around Kojiro’s legs as he enters the field, the light in his eyes still visible when he grins at Kaoru from the short distance between them. He wonders if Kojiro can spot his smile from here.

As he begins to paint this year’s bloom, Nyako settles down by his right, nearly knocking over his coffee in the process. Regardless of the hostility he typically holds for her, his free hand finds the top of her head, idly scratching behind her ears as he brings the field into his sketchbook with every calculated brushstroke.

Kaoru’s halfway done with the painting when Kojiro returns with a basketful of assorted flowers and a few more peeking out from his shirt’s front pocket.

“You sure you don’t wanna go into the field?” he asks as he sits across Kaoru, blocking his vision of the wildflowers. Kaoru shoots him a pointed look, but sets his sketchbook and brush aside. He knows a cry for attention when he sees one.

“You know that won’t end well,” Kaoru replies and takes an offered half of a sandwich, the brioche buttery on his tongue. “Keep those in the balcony if you’re gonna take them upstairs.”

“I know, I know,” Kojiro mutters, reaching out to pet Nyako. Kaoru snorts when she gets up and decides to chase after a blue butterfly instead, disappearing into the field not long after.

Before he can continue his painting, Kojiro edges closer, promptly lying down on Kaoro’s lap, still chewing on a piece of brioche.

“I hope you choke,” Kaoru says flatly, flicking his forehead perhaps harder than he should’ve.

Kojiro winces, rubbing the now red spot.

“You’re the worst,” he glares up at Kaoru. Both his words and stare hold no edge.

Kaoru scoffs, “Get off my lap then.”

To spite him, Kojiro only makes himself more comfortable, creasing Kaoru’s yukata even further.

“God, your head is awfully heavy for something that’s virtually empty,” Kaoru points out, leaning back on his palms and letting the wind comb through his hair, not once looking away from Kojiro whose lips curl into a grin that can only mean no good.

He picks a dandelion from his pocket, holding it up just below Kaoru’s nose. Kaoru immediately leans back with a flinch.

“C’mon, make a wish,” Kojiro says, before his grin turns more teasing. “Blow it.”

Kaoru’s face twists in disgust and Kojiro raises the dandelion closer to his face.

“I won’t shove it in your mouth, promise.”

“Kojiro, I swear to god—”

Kaoru sneezes, cutting himself off, and the dandelion seeds float away with the breeze, carrying Kojiro’s laugh along with them.

  
  


—

  
  


The stars are especially bright tonight, strung up high above their island against a glimpse of the Milky Way, and Kaoru takes it as a sign, wondering if he’ll ever hear from them. He tries to listen closely, tries to tune out the song of the cicadas’ relentless clicking, and he almost does. Faint silvery whispers, unintelligible but he hears them nonetheless, even if only for the briefest moment.

It’s about as promising as it is ominous.

“Do you think Nyako will die before we do?” Kojiro asks, petting the cat in question as she lies on his chest while the hammock he’s in swings idly from side to side. 

Kaoru draws his stare away from the night sky, wincing when an ache burrows itself in his neck from looking up for so long. The radio propped against the other plum blossom tree switches to a different song.

“I doubt it,” he replies, glancing to his left at the cat on Kojiro’s chest.

She’d been there to greet them at the beach when they first arrived at the island all those years ago, guiding them to the lone coffee shop covered in a blanket of dust, to the devil’s ivy-covered staircase attached to the side of the building leading to the forgotten apartment above the shop. Kojiro had been convinced from that moment that the calico isn’t normal and he’s more or less correct—nothing about this is normal.

But Kaoru still thinks she just wanted something to eat.

“Pretty sure she’s the oldest thing in this place,” he continues and Nyako’s mismatched ears perk up. “It’ll probably stay that way too.”

A chilling breeze passes through, bringing along a few plum blossoms with it, and Kaoru wonders if it has anything to do with her.

He tightens his grasp on the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, leaning against the tree as the grass lightly pricks his legs through his linen trousers. Beside him, Kojiro continues swinging while petting Nyako, seemingly unfazed by the brief drop in temperature.

“So you do think she’s a god,” Kojiro says, smile evident in his voice.

“There’s a difference between being really old and being a god, Kojiro,” Kaoru deadpans. “A very big difference, might I add.”

The next gust of wind fails to convince him otherwise.

The thing is, it’s more so that he doesn’t _want_ to believe in it, rather than refusing to entertain the idea entirely. It would fill him with more dread than satisfaction if Nyako truly is some higher being walking among them, curling up in their bed, suffocating him with her patchy fur coat. It’s been around eight years since they stumbled upon the island and until now, Kaoru still doesn’t know which rules it abides by and which it goes against. Reducing the cat’s strangeness to something more trivial and mundane is more reassuring than he lets on.

Kojiro hums, then says, “We should go to the mainland soon.”

“We were just there two weeks ago.”

Some shuffling, then Nyako hops onto the grass, cooly walking away as Kojiro adjusts himself in the hammock, turning onto his tummy so he can properly meet Kaoru’s eyes, left arm dangling over the edge.

“You’re gonna flip yourself over,” Kaoru points out, eyeing the way the hammock quivers ever so slightly under his weight.

“The couple that came by today mentioned a new restaurant that sounds really good,” Kojiro continues, ignoring the warning. “They would’ve shown you the photos too if you weren’t so rude.”

Maybe Kaoru should just flip the hammock over himself.

“Didn’t realise turning my back on them to make coffee constitutes as rude,” he mutters, edges of his lips quirking into a smug smirk. “Anyway, I think I heard one of them mention finding cat fur in their chocolate tart.”

He doesn’t even have to say ‘ _I told you so_ ’ to get a reaction out of Kojiro, who rises to the bait quite literally, causing the hammock to wobble from the sudden movement as he pushes himself up with his right arm.

“You’re lying.”

Meeting Kojiro’s half-hearted glare, Kaoru takes his left hand with a smile and pulls.

Kojiro barely manages to get out a ‘ _you piece of shit_ ’ before he all but tumbles onto the floor with a grunt, the hammock now freely swinging from side to side while the plum blossoms float down from the branches above. Kaoru had been doing a good job of controlling his expression so far, but it lightly hits the back of Kojiro’s head when he rises and he cracks, dissolving into a fit of laughter that drowns out Kojiro’s complaints.

Their fingers are still interlaced together and the blanket slips off his shoulders when Kojiro yanks him down to the grass with him. Kaoru stops himself from faceplanting into Kojiro’s shoulder with his free hand, rosy hair spilling free from the loose bun it was in, their noses just short of brushing against each other as he holds himself up.

“See, if you’d just smile like that to the visitors, they wouldn’t be so intimidated by you,” Kojiro says, gaze surprisingly tender for someone who just got pulled off a hammock.

Kaoru rolls his eyes, though his smile remains in place.

It’s a bit of an awkward angle, when they close what little distance is left between them. Kojiro tightens his hold on Kaoru’s hand, the frayed ends of their bracelets trapped between their palms. When he pulls away, Kojiro grins up at him and Kaoru swears the stars sound a little clearer.

**Author's Note:**

> the tenderness and fluff in this is to make up for my previous matchablossom fic, so i hope you enjoyed it! and yes, the cat/god is named after nyako from chainsaw man :o) thank you for reading and as always, kudos and comments are much appreciated!
> 
> p.s. here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/MAKIZENlNS) if u want more matchablossom brainworms


End file.
